


A Dozen Reasons In This Gun

by casesandcapitals



Series: Dealer!Verse [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Drug Dealing, Explicit Sexual Content, Italian Mafia, Italiano | Italian, M/M, Murder, Prostitution, Recreational Drug Use, more warnings as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:30:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casesandcapitals/pseuds/casesandcapitals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Frank's eyes were made of fire, Gerard's were carved from ice.<br/>Now that these two men have joined forces, New Jersey better watch out.</p><p>A tale of love, murder, drugs, family, rape, and the Mafia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 
> 
> Banner made by the beautiful [Mikki](http://archiveofourown.org/users/howrseluvar/pseuds/howrseluvar/)  
> Textures by [StruckDumb](http://struckdumb.deviantart.com/)  
> 

I was picking up around the living room while I waited for the coffee to finish brewing. I emptied all the ashtrays I could spot and picked up the random pieces of clothing still left behind from when Frank and I had fucked last night during a movie. The memory made me grin.  
Frank was out dealing and wouldn't be home for at least another two hours. I hadn't been able to sleep too well this afternoon, so I was making coffee to be able to stay up until he got back.  
I could smell it from the living room so I headed for the kitchen, already imagining the taste in my mouth, when someone knocked on the door. I hesitated. People usually didn't come to the apartment. Not a lot of people knew where Frank lived. I decided it was either a dumbass neighbor or someone important.  
I crossed the room and reached for the handle, leaving the chain on. I opened the door a few inches and peeked out.  
It was some dude in baggy clothes with short scruffy brown hair and twitchy fingers.  
"What do you want?" I asked.  
"Frank around?"  
"No, try back in a few hours." I made to shut the door but he held it in place with his hand.  
"Can I come in and wait for him?"  
I raised an eyebrow at him and was about to throw my shoulder against the door to shut it when his face broke into a smile.  
"Of course, we haven't been introduced. I'm Jonathan."  
Oh. _Oh._ Jonathan was Frank's supplier. What the hell was he doing here? He should have at least called first. I tried not to glare at him when I unhooked the chain and let him in.  
He looked around in an obvious manner as he strolled into the living room. I shut the door behind me, leaving the chain off, and walked into the kitchen. He followed.  
"So, you must be Gerard."  
I kept my eyes on the coffee I was preparing. "Yeah."  
"I had heard through the grapevine that he picked you up. Must've cost a fortune."  
I clenched my teeth and stared at my coffee. I could hear him stepping across the linoleum.  
"They say you're the best."  
"Any particular reason you're here?" I asked, turning around to face him. He stopped half way through the kitchen.  
"I need to talk to Frank," he answered with a slight shrug.  
"Yes, and I told you he wouldn't be back for a few hours."  
"I'm sure we could find a way to pass the time," he smirked at me.  
"Excuse me?"  
"I'll be simple with you, Gerard." He started moving forward again. "I've always admired you. But picking up hookers," his grin widened, "Not very good for business."  
I tightened my fingers around the handle of my coffee cup. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave," I bit out.  
"Oh, come on, Gerard," he chuckled. "Don't be like that. I'd pay you."  
"No. Now get out."  
"Gerard...."  
"I said no. Now get the fuck out."  
He lunged forward, wrapping one hand around my throat and sinking his fingers into my hip with the other.  
"Get- off me! Motherfucker-!" I threw my arm forward, dumping the hot coffee down his leg. He screamed and fell back, dragging me with him. The burn seemed to enrage him rather than put him off and he pushed me to the floor, climbing on top of me.

 

I barely had any product left in my pocket, which was how I liked to finish the night. I had stopped to pick up more cigarettes, but I was glad to be home. I could smell coffee when I unlocked the door and smiled to myself at the thought of Gerard waiting up for me.  
"Hey," I called. "I'm back."  
I stepped around the corner of the living room and into the kitchen, halting as I took in the scene before me. The kitchen table had been overturned. There was a puddle of coffee on the floor. Two drawers had been ripped from their place, their contents scattered around the room.  
Gerard was sitting on the counter, cigarette in hand, staring at me. His hair was a mess, his sleeve was half ripped from his shirt. There were bruises forming around his neck and cheek.  
There was a man laying on the floor in a large puddle of blood.  
"Gerard, what happened?" I asked, trying to keep a handle on my calm.  
"Jonathan," Gerard answered in the tone he usually used; bored and unconcerned.  
The body on the floor groaned and I stepped over to look down at the face. It was Jonathan, but he was covered in gashes and one of his eyelids wouldn't open.  
"Gerard?" I asked again.  
"Tried to rape me," he answered simply, taking a drag.  
I looked down at Jonathan, rage building inside me. "You put your hands on him?" I asked.  
"Just a fucking whore," was the garbled response.  
"Gerard," I said, calmly reaching out for him. "Come here, baby. I'm gonna teach you how to snap a neck."

I fished Jonathan's cell phone from his pocket and started clicking through the contacts while Gerard made more coffee. I found the name I was looking for and hit the call button.  
"Hey, Johnny, how's it going?" came a half-shouted greeting. I could hear chattering in the background.  
"This isn't Johnny."  
There was a pause on the other line and the background noise cut off.  
"And who might I be talking to?" came a different voice, softer and dangerous sounding.  
"My name's Frank."  
Gerard crossed the kitchen to slink into my arms. He kissed my neck gently.  
"I'd like to know why you have Johnny's phone," came the voice. I heard muttering in the background.  
"Because Johnny's lying on my kitchen floor, and I only thought it a kindness to let someone know," I answered. Gerard pressed his lips to the underside of my chin and curled his fingers into the front of my shirt.  
"Who'd you say this was?"  
"Frank Iero."  
There was a significant pause this time. I pulled the mouthpiece away to kiss Gerard on the temple.  
"I've heard of you," came the voice, slightly wondering this time.  
"And yet I have no idea with whom I'm speaking."  
"Why don't you give me your address, Mr. Iero, and I'll stop by to pick up Johnny."  
I frowned.

Thirty minutes later, I pulled the door open to see three Italian men in suits standing in the dingy hallway. I stepped aside and they filed in.  
The fattest one looked me over. "Mr. Iero?"  
"Yes." I shook his hand when he held it out.  
"I'm Roger Agosta. Normally I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but under the circumstances...."  
"I understand."  
"So, where's my boy Johnny?"  
"Through here." I led them to the kitchen where Jonathan's body was still laying. Gerard had righted a chair to sit in and was working on his sixth cigarette since I had gotten home. He crossed his legs and gave a muted glare at the men that filled the kitchen. "Gerard," I said. "This is-"  
"I know who he is," Gerard muttered, cutting me off.  
I raised an eyebrow but he ignored me so I turned to Roger. He was staring at Gerard.  
"Gerard... Way, I assume?"  
"Pleasure," Gerard answered, the word hiding the slightest bit of sarcasm under the disinterest.  
"Quite." Roger turned to glance at Jonathan's body for a moment, then looked over at me. "What happened?"  
"He came here to talk to me but decided to assault Gerard instead."  
Roger took a step closer to examine Johnathan's butchered face. "And so you deemed it necessary to-"  
"I didn't do this," I told him.  
Roger and the two silent men behind him looked from me to Gerard, who was blowing smoke at the ceiling.  
"You should teach your associates some respect," Gerard told the ceiling. He took another drag.  
"I see," muttered Roger.  
There was silence for a minute while I watched Gerard, Gerard watched the ceiling, and Roger flicked his eyes between the both of us. Eventually Roger snapped his fingers at the two men behind him.  
"Take care of this," he said, motioning towards Jonathan's body. The two men turned and left the apartment. Roger looked at me. "I'd appreciate a cup of coffee, considering the hour."  
Gerard stood smoothly and crushed his cigarette in the sink before grabbing a mug and pouring coffee. He sent a pointed look at Roger who smirked and said "Two sugars, if you would."  
Gerard dumped two spoonfuls of sugar into the black liquid before passing it over Jonathan's body and into my hand. I passed it to Roger.  
"Thank you."  
Roger's two men returned at that moment wearing plastic gloves and carrying a large black bag. Roger spoke over the sound of rustling plastic as his men wrapped up Jonathan's body.  
"I've heard good things about you, Mr. Iero."  
He looked like he expected me to say ' _Please, call me Frank_ '.  
I blinked. "Really?"  
"Yes." He looked around the kitchen, eyes skipping over every surface. "You're small time, and yet you've made quite the name for yourself."  
I suppressed the smirk that was threatening my lips and waited for him to continue.  
"You might've guessed that I'll be needing someone to replace poor Johnny here," he said as his men carried the body out of the apartment. The sun was about to rise and I wondered if any of my neighbors would see. Not that they would ever say anything. "I wonder if you'd be interested in the position," Roger continued.  
Gerard's eyes were sharp on Roger, but he ignored it in favor of looking at me.  
"You'd trust someone you've never met?" I asked.  
"Like I said, I've heard good things. And, no offense, but the position is small enough that if you _were_ intent on screwing me over, it wouldn't impact my life too severely. Not that I recommend screwing me over, of course." He smiled then.  
Roger's eyes were still on me, but I was watching Gerard. The look he was shooting at the fat Italian man was dangerous and I was curious. I finally turned back to Roger as his men reappeared bearing cleaning supplies. They got to work on the blood on the linoleum.  
"I'd be interested in hearing more," I hedged. "If you'd like to meet and discuss it."  
Roger smiled again. "Why don't I give you my address and you can stop by when you feel up to the discussion." He pulled a piece of paper and a fancy looking pen from his jacket and scribbled his address onto it. I took it and slid it into my jeans pocket.  
Roger drained the last of his coffee and watched his men finish with the floor. I kept my eyes on Gerard until Roger bid me good morning and left, his men trailing after.  
The door snapped shut and silence prevailed for a few moments before Gerard snuffed another cigarette out. He climbed stiffly to his feet and crossed the room in three steps, pressing himself into my chest. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed, pretending I didn't notice him shaking.  
"Baby?"  
"Join me in the shower?" he asked, voice calm as anything.  
"'Course."


	2. Chapter 2

My first few weeks living with Frank had been rough. He wouldn't allow me to have the same amount of coke that Tony had allowed and it made me itchy and snappish. Frank never hit me, although I could tell he wanted to sometimes. Whenever our fights got bad his eyes would burn and I expected a smack, but he would look at the still-healing mess of a bruise on my face, courtesy of Tony, and would immediately turn away and punch whatever was closest.  
There was a lot of angry fucking.  
Frank had told me he wanted me to quit completely and I stormed out, returning three days later with a stack of bills.  
"What's this?" he asked when I slapped the money down in front of him.  
"The same amount you paid Tony," I told him.  
He hesitated. "Why?"  
"I'm buying myself back."  
He stood and moved toward me, reaching out to gently touch the yellowing bruise on my face. "You know I don't care about that, right?"  
"I do," I told him fiercely. "I don't want to be owned. I belong to myself and I make my own decisions."  
"Is this about the coke?" he asked softly.  
"No."  
"Gerard," he insisted.  
"It's not."  
There was a short pause. "Alright," he finally said. "Sit down, I'll make you something to eat."

 

Gerard still used, though not as much as he apparently did before I picked him up. I could tell he was trying to cut back, I just couldn't figure out why. I didn't press the issue though, and we began to settle into each other's presence.  
It helped that we both had the same schedule. Some mornings I would get home to find him half naked in my bed, hogging my pillow. Some mornings I would come back to an empty apartment only to hear him walk in an hour or two later and head straight for the shower.  
I convinced myself that it wasn't my business if he was still hooking. I let him crawl into bed next to me regardless, pushing his wet hair away from his face and pulling him close.  
It worked for us.

Gerard slinked into my bed Friday morning. His hair was cool and wet from his shower and I sucked in a breath when it brushed against my skin. I pulled him close and tucked the black strands behind his ears.  
"Buongiorno, mio ragazzo bello,” I muttered into his skin.  
He settled into place with his head just under my shoulder. “You speak Italian?”  
"Mhmm. Ho imparato da bambino.”  
“I don't know what you just said,” Gerard huffed. I could sense an eyeroll.  
“I learned it when I was a kid,” I clarified, then added, “My grandfather taught me.”  
“Cool,” he yawned. I rolled the word around in my head for a moment, trying to hear any sarcasm. I decided he was being sincere.  
“I could teach you, if you want?”  
“Hmm, maybe,” he muttered. His breath brushed over my skin and tickled. I traced circles into his side until he was asleep.  
I didn't know what this was, this thing with Gerard. He'd been living with me for two months now and I still didn't know what we were. He was a hooker that shared my apartment. He was a warm body that hogged the covers. He was the best lay I'd ever had. His presence was getting stuck somewhere in my chest and I didn't know how I felt about it. I called him 'baby' and 'beautiful' frequently and it always made him smirk in that little way he does when he doesn't want people to see. We kissed, a lot. We fought and fucked and cuddled and talked. We killed a man then had shower sex without batting an eye. He paid rent and had taken a shelf in the fridge for his own food. He had bought clothes for himself and stole one of the drawers in my bureau. He bought coke from me because if I didn't sell to him he'd go somewhere else and I didn't want him to get something bad. He hooked, I dealt. I tried very hard to not fall in love with him.

I woke up to my alarm at 2pm. Gerard groaned as I shuffled around to reach over and turn it off. I settled back into the warm covers and pulled Gerard close, smiling when he mumbled something containing the words 'alarm' and 'fuck'. Pushing his hair behind his ear, I buried my face in his neck, inhaling his scent and kissing his skin. He was still mostly asleep, so I allowed myself to pull back and look at his face in the dark. He was incredibly pale, so pale he looked as if he was made of porcelain. His black, messy hair only made his white skin look whiter. The circles under his eyes were less pronounced now than they had been when we met. His lips weren't as chapped and his skin wasn't bruised anymore. He had gained a small bit of weight since he moved in. I caught him pinching at it once, even though he still resembled an underfed model, and had immediately stepped in close to kiss him.  
I let my fingers roam down his arm and onto his hip, pushing the fabric of his shirt aside so I could touch his skin. He had scars that I never asked about, just like he never asked about mine. There was one on his stomach that I couldn't help but to run my finger over. It was thick and bumpy, like it had been a deep cut that never got stitched up.  
Gerard sucked in a small breath, his eyes still shut. “Tickles,” he mumbled.  
I skimmed my fingers away from his scar and up towards his face. Cupping his cheek, I closed the small gap between us to kiss him on his closed lips.  
“Mmf,” he sighed, pulling away and pushing me onto my back. Gerard crawled onto me, barely resting on the bed anymore, and slotted his limbs against mine. He tucked his head under my chin and I wrapped my arms around his back.  
“Why'd you set the alarm?” he asked, voice muffled.  
“I'm going to see Roger today,” I told him.  
He pulled away from me and sat up, straddling me.  
“Why?”  
“I thought I'd accept his job offer.” I slid my hands up his thighs to settle against his hips.  
“I'm going with you,” he announced, sounding utterly sure of himself and completely unconcerned. It was amazing how fast he could go from sleepy and cuddly to icy and distant.  
“How come?” I asked, my eyebrows coming together a bit.  
“Because.” He crawled off me and left the room in his boxers and t-shirt. I could hear him fumbling around in the kitchen and a few minutes later the smell of coffee reached me.  
“If you don't get out here,” Gerard called from across the apartment, “I'm going to drink all this coffee myself.”  
I grinned and rolled out of bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buongiorno, mio ragazzo bello - Good morning, my beautiful boy.  
> Ho imparato da bambino - I learned as a child.
> 
> Whenever I use Italian in this story, I'll put translations at the bottom.
> 
> Short chapter, but it's all I have so far.  
> I put on my Dealer!Verse playlist and decided to have a go at it. Wish me luck <3


	3. Chapter 3

The building we pulled up to was more of a manor than a house. The long sweeping driveway lead up to a white brick house almost the size of my apartment building. My rusting Corolla stood out pretty painfully against the smooth, clean lines of the other vehicles that were parked in a row.  
I shut my door and glanced at Gerard, who was sneering at the fancy cars.  
"You got a problem with Mercedes?" I asked him.  
He slammed his door shut and glared at me. "I've been fucked in too many to really care for them."  
"I guess it would kinda ruin them for you," I agreed. I circled the car to put my arm around his waist.  
He brushed his hair behind his ears and looked up at the imposing building before us. "Let's get this over with."  
"You didn't have to come, you know," I said as we strolled forward.  
Gerard scoffed but otherwise ignored my comment.  
The door was answered the moment I rang the bell. A man in a suit, with tan skin and black hair, glared at the pair of us.  
“I’m here to speak with Roger Agosta about a job offer,” I told him.  
“Name?”  
“Frank Iero.”  
His eyes flicked over me, head to toe, before he stepped aside to let us in.  
“Please, wait here.”  
Gerard and I stepped into the cool entryway as the besuited man ascended a staircase. I didn't bother to admire the stonework or art. I heard Gerard let out a long suffering sigh.  
"Remind me what's so special about this job again?" Gerard muttered.  
"Jonathan sold to dealers, not users. There's more money involved and I wouldn't have to be out all night. It's a step up."  
"What's the top step, Colombian drug lord?" he scoffed.  
"Mr. Iero!"  
I looked up to see Roger coming down the stairs, a fake-looking smile on his face.  
"I'm so glad you came." He hit the bottom step and moved forward to shake my hand. "And Mr. Way, of course," he added, turning to Gerard, who simply nodded his head at the fat man.  
"Well," Roger smiled. "Come in, please."  
Gerard and I followed him out of the foyer and into a large living room filled with other men. Most of them were wearing suits, a few were dressed casually. They were seated around, chatting and watching a baseball game on a large flat screen television. As we walked passed one of the leather couches, one of them laughed and called out, "Who ordered the entertainment?" He reached out and grabbed Gerard's ass.  
I turned, enraged, about to destroy the ignorant man, but Gerard beat me to it.  
He flicked an open switchblade up to the man's throat in a flash. Everyone else in the room jumped to their feet, a few guns were drawn. Roger cleared his throat.  
"Ricky," he said, addressing the man. "I assume you heard what happened to Johnny? What his face looked like when we got him back?"  
"Yes, sir," the man, Ricky, said. His hand was still hanging open in the air and his eyes were on Gerard's face.  
"Do you know why he was killed in such a fashion?" Roger pressed.  
"No, sir," Ricky answered.  
"Johnny laid his hands on Mr. Way, and Mr. Way did not appreciate it." Roger turned to the rest of the room. "Put your weapons away."  
The men did as they were told, slowly tucking their guns away and resuming their seats. The television continued to play in the background.  
"Mr. Way, I would greatly appreciate you putting yours away as well."  
Gerard, who hadn't moved an inch since he first opened his blade, blinked.  
"Touch me again and I'll cut your dick off," he said in a low mutter. He slide the blade away, leaving a thin line on Ricky's neck. Just enough to bleed a little.  
"I apologise," Roger said to Gerard when he faced us again, "On behalf of my men."  
"I told you to teach them respect," Gerard said, pressing himself into my side. I wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close, glaring at those around us. "I suggest you do it."  
Roger nodded, a strange look on his face as he watched us. "Please, follow me."  
Gerard and I followed the fat Italian man out the other side of the room, ignoring the numerous eyes that watched us.  
"You alright?" I asked Gerard as soon as we left the room.  
"Fine," he answered tersely.  
"If it ever fucking happens again I'll kill him for you," I muttered in his ear.  
Gerard pecked a kiss onto my cheek.  
Roger stopped in front of a wooden door and turned to look at us both.  
"I apologise, but I'd prefer to speak to you alone, Mr. Iero, if we're to discuss business. Mr. Way, if you'd like you can continue on to the kitchen, where my wife will get you some coffee."  
I looked around. "Gerard?"  
"It's fine," he said. He kissed me again, a chaste press to my lips. "Don't take too long," he said, turning and walking away.  
"Quite a man you got there," Roger said in a low voice.  
"No shit," I agreed.

 

I walked slowly down the wide hallway, keeping my eyes sharp for the kitchen. I hated being in this ridiculously lavish house. The last time I had been here was for a party as hired "entertainment".  
Three girls, one boy and I had been dropped off by Tony. He had already been paid and he told us to go in and earn it. It had been early in my career, and I was nervous to the point of being sick as we entered the house.  
The music was loud, men shouting to one another drunkenly over the noise. Everyone was wearing undone black suits. A cheer went up as we entered the living room. One of the girls got snatched up right away, pulled onto a couch and grabbed at. The rest of mingled unwillingly.  
I lost count of how many men had fucked me that night, how many I had sucked off. Before Tony returned to pick us up, I escaped into the bathroom and vomited.  
It had been years ago, but apparently some of the men still remembered me. I didn't care. If any of them mistook me for a whore again, I'd teach them that I wasn't up for grabs.  
I pinched the skin at my wrist to chase away the memories and stepped into a large white kitchen.  
A long, dark wood table was sat in the center of the room, half the chairs occupied by gossiping Italian women. They all fell silent and stared at me.  
"Che cosa?" asked one woman, young and slim with done up hair.  
"Roger told me his wife would make me coffee," I said.  
The table erupted into conversation, all in tittering, giggling Italian. The young woman who had spoken to me stood and approached me.  
"Come si chiama?"  
I restrained the urge to roll my eyes.  
"I don't speak Italian."  
The woman smirked at me and spoke in a thick accent. "I am Miranda. What's your name?"  
"Gerard."  
"A French name," she said wonderingly. "Do you have any Italiano in you?"  
"A bit. Are you Roger's wife?" I asked shortly.  
"Si. Why don't you sit while I make you coffee. How do you take it?"  
"Black."  
She stepped away and busied herself at the counter. I walked up to the table and sat, eyeing the woman around me.  
"Perché sei qui?" one woman put to me. The others leaned forward to look at me.  
I bit the inside of my cheek before saying, "I don't speak Italian."  
The table dissolved into small conversations again, everyone speaking over one another in their smooth language. Another half dozen questions were put to me, none of which I could understand.  
Miranda appeared over my shoulder, setting a mug down in front of me. She snapped at the other woman and they all fell silent. Miranda rounded the table and sat across from me, patting the table between us.  
"Tell us, why are you here?"  
All eyes turned towards me. I took a sip of coffee before answering. "Have you heard of Frank Iero?"  
"Si, si," was muttered by many.  
"Roger offered him a job, I came here with him," I told Miranda.  
"He's your marito? Your- " she paused for a moment, searching for the word. "Your husband?"  
"No," I said softly.  
"Your lover then?" she asked, grinning. The women around the table chuckled.  
"Si," I answered, raising my chin a bit.  
The woman around the table laughed and _Ahh_ 'ed. A few dirty comments were made, judging by the reaction they got. I smirked and someone clapped me on the shoulder.  
"Ahh, I like you, Gerard," laughed Miranda. "You are welcome at my table."  
"Thank you," I answered sincerely.

 

Meeting with Roger took just over a half hour. He thanked me at the end and shook my hand, saying I would be a wonderful member of 'the team'.  
I rolled my eyes as I made my way towards the kitchen. Roger was pompous and overbearing, I decided. He told me that I would only see him again if something important came up, and I was secretly glad.  
I heard woman's laughter as I rounded a sharp corner in the wide hallway. I followed the sound and stepped into the doorway of a large, clean kitchen. Gerard's pale white skin stuck out at the table he was sitting at, surrounded by Italian woman.  
One of the woman was tapping the rim of her glass, saying "La tazza."  
"La tat-sa," Gerard said, stumbling over the foreign word. The women around him laughed and Gerard repeated the word. "La taut-za"  
"Si, very close!" cried the woman sitting across from him, clapping her hands together. She picked up a fork. "La forchetta."  
"La... for-keh-ta," Gerard said.  
"Ottimo! Now all at once!"  
"La forketaa," Gerard said, lips curling upwards in the corners.  
The women laughed.  
"Sta imparando bene?" I asked, voice rising about the commotion.  
The women's heads whipped around in unison to stare at me. A few looked horrified.  
Gerard smirked at me. "Ciao, Franco," he said, caressing the words and batting his eyelashes. I blinked and the woman began to laugh again.  
The young woman who sat directly across from Gerard spoke to me in a pure accent. "He is very good, signore. è molto carino, singore."  
The women tittered. Gerard was still looking at me, his face lighter and happier than I had seen in the few months I had known him.  
"Si, è splendido," I said, gazing back at his face.  
The women all swooned and giggled. Gerard was raising an eyebrow at me.  
"Are you done?" he asked when the laughter had died down.  
"Yeah, you ready to go?"  
"Sure." He turned back to the woman across from him. "Grazie, Miranda."  
"Any time Gerard," she smiled back at him.  
Gerard stood and crossed the room. I slipped my arm around his waist and led him from the room. I could still hear the women behind us as we walked.  
 _Caro bambino!_  
 _Lui è molto bello!_  
 _Franco è fortunata ad avere lui!_  
 _Dobbiamo invitarlo di nuovo!_  
I bit my lip to keep from smiling and pulled Gerard closer to my side. We left through the living room without any problems. Ricky kept his eyes averted.  
When we were back in the car and on our way out of the winding driveway, I glanced at Gerard.  
"Did you enjoy that?"  
He stuck his chin in the air. "I like them."  
"They like you, too."  
"Miranda is Roger's wife. She's a very welcoming woman."  
"I'm glad you found some people who treat you the way you deserve be treated."  
"No shit," he scoffed. "How was your thing with Roger?"  
"Boring and long. Lots of rules and subtle threats." I rolled my eyes. "I'll pick up the first shipment on Monday and work out of one of their houses."  
"Is this a day shift type thing?"  
"Yeah."  
"It doesn't sound like it'll be as much fun as dealing on the street," Gerard stated.  
I chuckled. "I'll bring a book."  
"Lee-bro," he stated promptly.  
I glanced over at him where he sat, looking out the window and radiating smugness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Che cosa? - What?  
> Come si chiama - What is your name?  
> Perché sei qui? - Why are you here?  
> La tazza - Cup  
> La forchetta - Fork  
> Ottimo - Excellent  
> Egli sta imparando bene? - Is he learning well?  
> Egli è molto carino, singore - He is very cute, sir  
> Si, egli è splendido - Yes, he is beautiful  
> Caro bambino! - Darling boy! (dear child)  
> Lui è molto bello! - He is very nice!  
> Franco è fortunata ad avere lui! - Frank is lucky to have him!  
> Noi dobbiamo invitare lui indietro! - We should invite him back!


	4. Chapter 4

We fell through the door to the bedroom, scrabbling at each other's clothes. Gerard moaned into my mouth when I flicked the button on his pants open.  
"Come on," he groaned.  
My fingers dug into his arms, a few inches above his elbows, as I pushed him onto the mattress. He bounced against it then settled, head thrown back, spread eagle. I stayed where I was and just stared for a moment. His chest was heaving, fingernails digging into his palms. His shirt was rucked up, exposing milky soft skin stretched across prominent hip bones. His hands came up and finished what I had started with his pants. He pulled them down over his ass then sat up, staring at me with blown pupils as he stripped them the rest of the way off and threw them to the floor.  
I expected him to reach for me then, bitching at me for taking too long and pulling me onto the messy bed. But he didn't.  
Instead he pulled his shirt over his head and laid back down. I could never get enough of Gerard's naked skin. The soft pale color, the stretch of it over his slim frame, the bumps and marks and scars that came with a dangerous life.  
Gerard slid one hand up over his hip, fingers trailing over his concave stomach and passed his chest. He wound his long fingers into his messy black locks and tugged, a dirty moan falling from between his red lips. His other hand creeped down, fingers toying with the waist of his black boxers.  
I stood my ground, leaning against the closed door, watching.  
His long fingers dipped beneath the fabric and closed around the erection that was tenting his boxers. He moaned, pretty and sinful, and started to move his hand. I pulled my shirt off while he worked. His hips were twitching against the mattress.  
He paused for a second to strip himself of his boxers, dropping them over the side of the bed, and then his hands were back on himself. One in his hair, tugging, the other on his dick.  
I almost went to him then, the urge to climb on top of him and fuck him into the mattress was overwhelming, but I stopped myself. I wanted to see how far he would go.  
He unwound his fingers from his hair and reached under the bed, searching the floor. I didn't miss the smirk on his lips when he found the lube. I bit my tongue, watching him uncap the bottle without looking, other hand leaving his dick just long enough to pour lube onto his fingers.  
Both hands crawled downward then, one wrapping around his erection again and the other going lower, curving in and under.  
"Ah," Gerard gasped slightly. His feet pushed against the mattress, lifting his hips up and spreading his knees wider. "Fuck."  
I gave in and pushed away from the door then, walking forward and draping myself over him.  
"No way," he whispered, shaking his head.  
"What?" I asked leaning in to run my teeth over the skin on his neck.  
"Lay down," he gasped.  
I fell off him and laid on my back beside him. I could feel a shudder run through him when he pulled his lube-slick fingers away and reached back under the bed for a condom. He tossed it at me, the foil packet landing on my chest.  
"Is that how it is?" I asked, chuckling as I tore the foil open.  
"Uh huh," he chuckled back softly, hands going back to work on himself.  
I undid my jeans and slid them down to my thighs before rolling the condom on. He didn't even look over.  
"Gerard," I said.  
He moaned as he pushed his fingers in deeper.  
"Gee," I whined, reminding him I was still here, hard and waiting.  
"What?" he smirked, not opening his eyes.  
"Come on, I want you."  
"Ask nicely."  
I chuckled before dropping my voice. "Please, Gee? Please can I have you?"  
"Mmm, better."  
He crawled into my lap and wrapped one hand around my dick, guiding himself onto it. He sank down with a whine, dropping his head back onto his shoulders.  
"Oh fuck, baby," I gasped, hands jumping up to grab his hips.  
"No," he muttered, pulling my hands away and pushing them into the mattress next to his knees. He left them there and brought his hands up to my chest.  
Gerard rode me, slowly, under his own volition, not letting me lift a finger to help or touch. He didn't allow me to do anything but watch him sweat and pant, his head tipped back and hands on my stomach.  
My orgasm was building, my fingers were clenched in my bed sheets, teeth gritted, trying to restrain myself from grabbing Gerard and thrusting into him. Everytime I tried to move, he would grab my hands and push them away. Apparently it was Gerard's show and I was just along for the ride.  
"Gee," I groaned. "Lemme touch."  
"Hmm," he moaned. "Ask nicely."  
"Fuck, Gerard, come on."  
"Ask," he panted, dropping into my lap and lifting himself up again.  
"Please, _please_."  
He smirked down at me through heavily lidded eyes. "Yeah, okay."  
I flipped him over faster than I would've thought possible before all that teasing, and pushed in as far as I could. Our lips crashed together in a sloppy, violent kiss and I started pounding into him.  
"Fuck, you fucking tease," I groaned.  
"Ah, ah, harder, fuck," was all he gasped.  
I came moments later, riding out the aftershocks inside him. His whine when I pulled out changed into a moan when I sank down to suck his dick. I pressed two fingers into him and continued fucking him as he moaned and writhed above me.  
"Fuck, fuck Frank, I'm-"  
I pulled off enough to just wrap my lips around the head and swallow as he came.  
I leaned away from him and cleaned up the condom while he laid there panting. After a moment he reached for me so I went to him. He let me pull him onto my sweaty chest and wrap my arms around him.  
"Tease," I muttered.  
"Fuck off," he chuckled.

 

Across the city, in a white brick manor, two besuited men sat in conference.  
"We should just get rid of them," one man said. He was burly with a shaved head and dark skin. He sat uncomfortably in a chair opposite a desk, his hands clasped together in his lap.  
"No," responded Roger Agosta. He sat behind the large dark wood desk, in a expansive leather chair. He spun his wedding ring around with his thumb, gazing at the silver band as he spoke. "They're a threat, but a minor one right now. I'd rather them be on our side before the others get into town."  
"But sir, like I was saying," the other man insisted. "If we just got rid of them-"  
"I said _no_ , Ricky. I want them with us, they could be a powerful asset."  
Ricky sat back in the small chair, the wood creaking as his weight shifted. He ran his fingers over the small cut on his neck. "Capo isn't gonna like it"  
"Let me deal with him," Roger answered. He reached onto the desk and picked up a folder stuffed with blurry pictures. He thumbed through them.  
 _Gerard on his old corner._  
 _Frank in a club, making a deal._  
 _Gerard stuffing an envelope into a blue mailbox._  
 _Frank tossing a handgun into the Hudson River._  
 _Gerard in a phone booth, sunglasses covering his face._  
Roger sighed and set the photos down, spreading them out. Ricky peered at them from where he sat.  
"I still don't like it," Ricky muttered.  
"Like it or not, you're going to deal with it." Roger pulled the photos of Gerard away from the rest and studied them. "Iero checks out," he said. "But Way... there's something going on that we don't know about."  
"I think-"  
"Yes, I _know_ what you think, Ricky," Roger snapped.  
The burly man fell silent.  
Roger sighed. "I need you, Joey, and Smokes to keep track of Way. I want one of you on him at all times. I want to know where he goes, who he talks to, when he takes a piss, everything. Make _sure_ you go unnoticed, Ricky. If we lose Way, we lose Iero, and I _want_ Iero. Do you understand me?"  
Ricky grinned down at the blurry face of Gerard Way.  
"I understand, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started a new blog called The Writer's Halfway House  
> It's a place for writers and betas to meet and help each other.  
> If you're a writer that needs a beta, or someone who'd like to offer their services as a beta, go follow the blog and fill in the short sign up questionnaire.  
> http://thewritershalfwayhouse.tumblr.com/


	5. Chapter 5

I glared at the dark ceiling then flicked my eyes over to the red, glowing numbers of the clock. It was only noon.  
The bed was cold where I reached out, and I frowned. Frank must have already left. The apartment was empty and chilly when I left the bedroom. I made for the coffee maker and started a pot with my eyes half shut, not noticing the note on the table until after I got back from taking a piss.  
I stared at it until the coffee was finished brewing, then left it on the table and ignored it for the rest of the afternoon.  
There was nothing on TV, I couldn't go out and hook at this hour, Frank didn't even have any fucking DVDs. I ended up doing a line and melting into the couch for a few hours.  
I had just lit a joint when Frank finally got back.  
"Hey," he said, looking me over.  
"Hey," I answered. "Come smoke this with me."  
He crossed the room and sat, pulling me into his lap so I was straddling him. I held the joint to his lips and he inhaled, then blew the smoke in my face.  
"Bitch," I chuckled, taking a hit of my own.  
"Is this what you've been doing all day?" he asked, running one hand up to cup my face.  
"Basically." I inhaled again then he took the joint from my fingers and left it in an ash tray on the side table. I pouted. "I was bored. Didn't know when you'd be back. You should buy some DVDs by the way."  
"Told you I'd be back after five," Frank sighed. "Didn't you see my note?"  
"I saw it."  
"Did you read it?"  
"Nope."  
"Why not?"  
I shrugged and let myself fall slowly backwards until Frank was forced to catch me and hold me up. He pulled me up into his arms and stood, hardly staggering under my minimal weight.  
"Come on, I'll put you to bed."  
"Aw, that's no fun," I groaned, slinging my arms around his neck. "You should fuck me."  
"At least let me eat something first, Gerard."  
"Bitch," I chuckled. The bed felt nice as he laid me down. He pulled a blanket up over me and pressed his lips to mine.  
"I'll be back in a little bit."  
I was awake long enough to hear a pan hit the stove top, then I was out.

"Hey. Hey, wake up baby."  
I groaned and tried to roll away from whoever was making noise.  
"Gerard, come on. I'm trying to say goodbye to you."  
That got my attention. I rolled back over and grabbed on to the first bit of Frank I could find.  
"Where're you going?"  
"Work, baby. Figured I'd tell you this time since you won't read my notes."  
I sighed and relaxed my grip on him. "Oh."  
He gave a soft laugh in the dark. "Did you think I was leaving you?"  
"Fuck off," I muttered, rolling away from him again.  
He pressed a lingering kiss into my neck. "I'll be back around five, alright?"  
"Yeah."  
I glared at the dark wall and listened to him leave. I sighed when the apartment went quiet.

I walked to the store a few blocks over that afternoon to buy DVDs, so when Frank got back that night I was immersed in a shitty romcom.  
"You got mail," he said as he walked passed and headed for the kitchen. An envelope landed in my lap.  
"What?" I grabbed the envelope and weighed it in my hand. It was heavy.  
"Miranda asked Roger to get someone to give it to me to give to you, apparently."  
"Huh." I put the envelope on the side table and turned my attention back toward the screen.  
Frank sat on the couch next to me with a box of cold take out he had grabbed from the fridge.  
"Are you gonna open it?"  
"Nope."  
Frank sighed and reached over me, snagging the envelope and ripping it open. He shook out the folded paper inside.  
"We've been formally invited to a dinner party," he read.  
"Lovely, I'll wear my best evening gown."  
"Don't be a bitch, Gerard."  
"I'm not a mafia wife, Frank, and I'm not going to pretend to be one. Especially since the husbands don't respect me."  
"They wouldn't disrespect you, not now that they know who you are," he growled.  
"You mean who I'm with."  
"Either way, if anyone says anything you don't like I'll cut their tongues out for you."  
"You're so fucking romantic."  
"You make me romantic," he said, grabbing my face and kissing me.  
"And you taste like soy sauce," I grinned. "Come on, watch the rest of this shitty movie with me then take me to bed."  
Frank chuckled, then settled in next to me to face the tv.

 

Gerard was in full bitch mode when we pulled up to the large house where the dinner was being hosted.  
"This is fucking stupid," he muttered as we climbed out of the car. "You realize they're going to immediately dismiss me and send me off to the kitchen with the women? I can't fucking cook, Frank."  
"You go where ever you want, baby," I told him, pulling him into my arms. "If you wanna stay with me then stay, they can't tell you what to fucking do."  
"This is gonna go great," he sighed.  
Once inside we were ushered into a small room off of the living room. It was filled with heavy cigar smoke and I could see Gerard pull a face out of the corner of my eye.  
A group of suited men were gathered around a poker table, chewing on cigars and placing bets. They looked up as we approached.  
"Ah, Frankie," said Joey, the owner of the house and host of the party. "Sono felice che tu sei qui."  
"Thank you, the invite was very gracious," I answered.  
Joey raised an eyebrow and another man with a heavy accent spoke.  
"You prefer Inglese?"  
"Gerard doesn't speak Italian, and I prefer him to know what's being said."  
One of the men stifled a chuckle and Joey grinned.  
"Of course. But perhaps Gerard would be more comfortable helping the women finish dinner and you could join us for a game?"  
Gerard shot me a _I told you so_ look before smirking at the seated men.  
"I'd be happy to help with dinner. I don't like poker anyway, I find it becomes boring when I always win."  
He kissed my cheek and turned to leave, but Joey called him back.  
"Well, if you're so secure in your ability to win, perhaps _you'd_ like to join us?"  
Gerard cocked his head and grinned. "I'd be honored."  
I sat back on a couch and lit a cigarette, watching carefully as Gerard shrugged out of his jacket and sat at the poker table. His thin, pale arms shone in the dim lighting and his smile was sharp.  
The cards were dealt and the game began. Hand after hand, Gerard either won or folded, the smirk on his face never changing as the men around him grew frustrated. Eventually one of the women appeared in the doorway and announced that dinner was ready.  
Joey congratulated Gerard on his wins and the men started to file out. I stepped in close to Gerard.  
"I didn't know you could play poker," I chuckled.  
"I learned a _long_ time ago," Gerard answered, his tone smug.  
I waited until we were alone in the room before muttering. "I'm glad they weren't playing for money or you might have made a few enemies."  
"If they were playing for money I wouldn't have bothered," he said, pulling his jacket back on. "When you take too much of someone's money, they get pissed and I didn't think you wanted to get into any fights on my behalf tonight."  
I rolled my eyes. "You're so considerate."  
Gerard laughed. "Come on, let's go eat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sono felice che tu sei qui - I'm glad you're here  
> Inglese - English
> 
> I finally wrote this chapter after having the story go in about four completely different directions and having all of them be completely wrong. I honestly don't know what the next chapter is going to be, nor when it'll be posted, let alone written.  
> Please understand that the next chapter might be next week, or it might not be for months.


	6. Author Note

I'm sorry to announce that this story has been scrapped for the foreseeable future.  
I just can't work on it anymore. Everything I think about this story I feel exhausted and pressured.  
Maybe someday I'll feel like working on it again, but not anytime soon.  
Sorry,  
cases


End file.
